


End Time

by TerraZeal



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Corruption, F/M, Massive Major Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraZeal/pseuds/TerraZeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first chapter of an on-going fic. Details Thrall taking on End Time by himself. With the help of his sickly wife and the long-forgotten mage, Jaina Proudmoore, Thrall attempts to put an end to the rein of Time Twisted Nozdormu, also known as Murozond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** Anachronos sends Thrall to the “Bad Future” depicted in the End Time storyline/dungeon in an attempt to stop his father. Semi-AU. Nozdormu/Murozond does not want to stop this future from happening here. He is undisputed master of the wasteland. Thrall is referred to as Thrall here, not Go'el, because I don't like that name. Lore reasons be damned. Vague Chrono Trigger reference, but come on, the dungeon is called End Time. Will be continued. R/R._

 

 

_End Time_

 

 

Thrall was beginning to get impatient. He'd learned much of patience from the element of earth, but not so much that he could sit in one place for hours when he'd heard that the summons was a dire one. The normally reclusive and untalkative bronze dragonflight had asked him to come here. Not inside the Caverns.

 

It was likely they rarely allowed anyone inside unless they had permission from another dragon. No, Thrall was forced to sit on the sands of Tanaris near a large, runed stone used for summoning rituals and wait on his summoner, apparently a very important bronze dragon.

 

He did not like the looks that the Keeper at the entrance to the Caverns kept giving him, but kept his opinions to himself. He did not even attempt a conversation. The dragon would likely not have responded anyway. The orc continued to attempt a patient wait in the hot sands. Aggra had asked what was so dire, and had insisted he go at once as soon as she learned that it was a bronze dragon that had summoned him.

 

Aggra had a great respect for dragons and seemed to think any time that one asked someone something that there should be no questions. For Aggra, dragons were the protectors of Azeroth and beings to be revered as much as the elements. Thrall had great respect for dragons as well, but he didn't see them as beings to be revered. He saw them as...people.

 

They had the same feelings, emotions, worries, and doubts that orcs had. His friendship with Aspect of Magic, Kalecgos, had confirmed this. As had seeing Alexstrasza in a state of despair close to suicide. Dragons were as vulnerable as mortals. Sometimes more. They saw more, felt more. Thrall sighed and glanced at the sky. The sun was slowly creeping down the horizon as Tanaris grew darker. He wondered how much longer his mysterious summoner would make him wait.

 

As if in answer to his almost frustrated thought, he was suddenly hailed with a buffet of sand as a huge bronze dragon descended a few feet in front of him. This bronze looked different than most. Instead of the sleek, almost golden scales and gold hourglass eyes, it was flecked here and there with silver and black and its eyes were pure black, no pupil or iris to speak of, almost as if it were caught betwixt a transformation of some type.

 

Thrall watched it with increasing uneasiness. There was something unnatural about this dragon...

 

“Hail, Thrall, son of Durotan. I am Anachronos, son and heir of Nozdormu, Aspect of...” the dragon hesitated before continuing, “Aspect of Time. I come on my own behalf and the behalf of all mortal races.”

 

Thrall couldn't understand this one bit. What had happened to this dragon? Last time he had seen Anachronos, the great bronze hadn't had these...mutations.

 

As if sensing his questions, Anachronos had answers. “You must be...wondering...what happened to me. The short answer is: my father. The long answer is...something I would rather not take too long to explain. Regardless of my unusual appearance, I still seek your aid and hope you will provide it.”

 

The former warchief stood finally, staring up at the bronze. “Does it hurt?” Was his first question. He realized how stupid it sounded and rephrased it. “My apologies, I meant, what happened to you, are you in pain? Is there something I can do to...ease it?”

 

Anachronos shook his bronze-mottled head. “Not at the moment. It only hurts mentally, not physically.”

 

Thrall did not understand this, but didn't question the dragon and waited for it to go on.

 

“Anyway, there is a great...disruption...in the timeways. A disruption caused by a monster called Murozond...it is happening right now in place I have dubbed The End of Time, because, in my eyes, that is exactly what it looks like.”

 

Thrall was even more puzzled now. How could time possibly end? “Excuse me, Anachronos, what do you mean, End of Time? How can time end? Time is infinite...” Thrall trailed off as he heard a great heaving sigh emit from Anachronos.

 

“Infinite...” the silvery-bronze dragon seemed to shiver, “Time is not...infinite. I need you to help my father once more. As you did for us when he was lost in the timeways. I can't tell you how because I don't know myself. I can only ask that you trust me. That you go to...The End of Time...and see what I see there. And stop it, or prevent its passing.”

 

The orc was interested now. Scared, a bit, but interested... “The End of Time...before I accept, may I ask, will I be endanger? If I go only to see, will the...monster...attack me?”

 

Anachronos gave a dragon-shrug. “I cannot honestly say what the thing will and will not do. You may well be in grave danger. Your life may be forfeit should you choose to accept and aid me and others like me. However, you may also just save the world.” Anachronos grinned. “Again.”

 

“However, I cannot say that you will like some of the things you may see. You may be hurt more mentally, emotionally, than physically...it is a dire task, but one that must be done, and you have aided the bronze flight in the past, so I only ask because you are the only one I trust to do the thing properly.”

 

Thrall thought about this for but a few moments. If the world was in danger, there was no question. His loyalty lay with Azeroth, with protecting it. If Azeroth was a wasteland, surely her elements were also in pain. As a shaman, it was his duty to help the elements. As an orc, a husband, perhaps a future father...it was his duty to protect the world from destruction. There was no question at all anymore.

 

“I accept, dragon. I have but one question before you would have me go. This...end of time...how far into the future is it?”

 

Anachronos hung his head. The one question he did not want to give an answer to.

 

“A mere twenty years, son of Durotan...a mere twenty years before our world meets its end. The end times are almost upon us...at least, in a dragon's eyes.”

 

Thrall felt a wave of despair creep over him. A mere twenty years...meaning his Aggra, himself, and possible children may not have survived... “Anachronos...in this end time...are there any survivors at all? Any living beings besides the monster ruling the wastes?”

 

The dragon gazed at him sadly. “There are small pockets, Earthbinder...but do not let such despair creep upon you...you set out to stop this from happening, not to despair over what you bear witness to. Whatever you see, I plead with you, do not let it stop you from your...end goal. Defeating Murozond and bringing balance back to the hourglass...”

 

Anachronos raised a taloned arm and gestured. A timeway portal, unlike any Thrall had ever seen, appeared before the orc. It was twisted, black, and broken-looking. Something almost resembling a skull could be made out within the twisted fragments of the portal. Thrall was loathe to step inside, to see what awaited him. Still, he had given his word. He looked at Anachronos. The dragon nodded. It was time, then.

 

Without time to rethink his decision, the orc stepped inside the portal. Instead of the normal, nauseating, yet natural feeling most time portals gave off, this one...all he felt was maddening pain. He felt his body twisted and torn at by claws and spikes he couldn't see, but could feel so easily. Black lightning flashed in his twisting vision as he suddenly came to a stop.

 

He almost felt thrown out of the portal instead of the natural going through and simply stepping out on the other side. The blackened, twisted skull-portal vanished behind him. Thrall's gut twisted. If the portal closed, how was he to get home? Perhaps by defeating Murozond...

 

Thrall looked around him, at this end time...a wasteland...Anachronos was right. Nothing living was here. Winds didn't even howl. Sand didn't move. Nothing moved. It was almost as if this entire place was frozen in time. Thrall sent a small call out to the elements. No answer. No elements...this was a dead world. This was Azeroth...

 

Stepping forward, his feet crunched over something hard. He bent down and picked up the object. An axe...notches...no. Gorehowl...Grom...Garrosh's axe. Even his best friend's son had fallen in this world. Garrosh was full of fire and passion and strength...it would take a lot to take him down. That was when he looked up and realized where he was.

 

Though it lay in desolate ruins, there was no mistaking his old home...Orgrimmar and Grommash Hold lay in ruin. Dead ruins. Thrall walked through the dead, lonely Orgrimmar. The auction house, normally so full of life and people, was also barren. Small skeletons clung to the bars near the auction house. The dead goblins had attempted to escape from whatever had killed them and had died, trapped, in their precious auction house.

 

A sound drew his attention away from the goblin skeletons. There WAS life here...someone, somewhere...it had come from the Drag. Thrall resolutely made his way down toward the Drag, attempting to ignore the skeletons and bones of dead tauren, trolls, blood elves, goblins, orcs...it made him wonder whether one of those skeletons belonged to his mate, his beloved Aggra, or Baine, Cairne's son.

 

Thrall licked his lips and pushed the thoughts out of his mind and continued his journey toward the only life he sensed in this broken Orgrimmar. Slowly, he approached what remained of Ragefire Chasm...it had collapsed upon itself. Dead trogg skeletons littered the area in front of the entrance. Even the enemies had ran from whatever killed Orgrimmar.

 

Something sharp pressed into the shaman's back. Sharp and deadly...a spear.

 

“Move, and I will not hesitate. You will die where you stand, servant of Murozond. Only his servants can walk so freely, so unafraid in this wasteland...”

 

The voice was tired, old, and female. And obviously an orc. Thrall did not move, nor turn, since it would likely result only in his getting impaled on the spear and failing his mission. Anachronos had sent him to this dead Orgrimmar for a reason. He hesitated, thinking of telling the orc with the spear at his back a lie, but deciding instead on the truth.

 

“Mistress, please...I am no servant of Murozond...I do not even honestly know who that is. I come from the past...to save the future. To stop this from happening. I was sent by-”

 

The spear shoved harder. Thrall felt a bit of blood seep through his robes. Weak though she undoubtedly was, she still had enough of a jump on him to kill him. “Bronze dragons! Its their fault! They did this! They killed! Everyone! Everything. Their...their...if you were sent by them, you were sent by the vile one.”

 

Her spear increased in pressure. Thrall couldn't allow this to continue. He didn't want to hurt a weak, old, female orc but he had promised Anachronos he would do whatever he could to stop this. Thrall leapt forward, spun on the female, easily twisted the spear from her grasp and held it at her throat. Thrall noticed she had brown skin and white, aged hair. He was momentarily reminded of his grandmother, the Mag'har chieftaness.

 

The female orc seemed unable to speak, and not due to the spear at her throat. Her dark eyes widened in shock. “No...it cannot be. You are dead. Deathwing killed you...it cannot be.” Her lips trembled as she whispered this. “Go'el...you are an illusion. An illusion sent by Murozond to kill us...”

 

Thrall held the spear steady, confused by her words, and disturbed...he had been killed by Deathwing in this future. And this woman knew him as Go'el. Very few he told that name to...

 

“Who are you? What do you mean 'Deathwing killed me'? I am alive. I told you. I have come from the past to prevent this from happening.”

 

Tears streamed down the female's face. Her wide, dark eyes no longer frightened, just sad, devastated. “Go'el..Go'el...you do not recognize me? You really are not lying...I am your Aggra, Go'el...I was lost so long after your death. I lived...live...only to protect our children.”

 

Thrall dropped the spear. “Aggra? Children? No...it cannot be...this is not the future I imagined.”

 

Future Aggra rubbed her throat where the spear had been, but did not stand. “I am too old, Go'el...I cannot help you stop it. I cannot help you...” Aggra sobbed. Though she was older, and nearly unrecognizable, Thrall bent down and pulled her into a hug.

 

“I told you. I am here to stop this. It won't happen. You won't live like this. Our...children...won't live like this. I will make things right, I promise.”

 

Aggra simply clung to the past version of her husband and sobbed, saying nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggra tells Thrall more about the world he's found himself in.

_End Time_

 

_Ch 2._

 

 

As Aggra was telling Thrall a bit more about this world, he was becoming increasingly lost in despair, despite what Anachronos had told him. She had pulled back several rocks that looked as if it were a cave-in near the trogg skeletons and led him into Ragefire Chasm. Apparently, this was where all the survivors she'd managed to find were hiding out. Murozond didn't think it worth his... _time..._ to look in a caved in former dungeon meant for enemies of Orgrimmar.

 

“Aggra...the survivors...are they all...horde? Did ANY alliance survive?”

 

Aggra looked at him oddly, not for the first time since she'd begun explaining a bit about this world. “There is no such thing as Horde and Alliance anymore, Go'el...just...people trying to live. The Eastern Kingdoms, Stormwind...it was all utterly annihilated. There may be alliance survivors elsewhere, but my children and I did all we could to save even our former enemies...because its what their father...you...would have wanted. There are a few of each race here, except gnomes...I do not know, but perhaps they hide in their own forgotten city. Perhaps they live on in Gnomeregan.”

 

Thrall rubbed his head. So...Horde and Alliance had indeed become one in the future, but not exactly the way he had hoped...

 

“Aggra, our children...did I ever...I mean, did they know me?” Thrall was not sure he wanted to know the answer to this, but if he had it his way, this future would never be in the first place.

 

As she led him further into the caverns, Aggra became quiet at this question. “I had twins, Go'el...you died during the battle with Deathwing before they were born. They never saw you...but I made sure they knew you. Who you were, what you did, what you stood for. They have your eyes, Go'el. Those beautiful blue orbs that I fell in love with.” Aggra's lips were trembling again and she was crying softly, but not stopping her steady stride toward the back of the caverns.

 

His children had never seen their father's face. They hadn't even known him, just stories of him. That almost renewed his hope and resolve. If any father fights for anything, it is their childrens' future. His children would not grow up without a father...they wouldn't grow up like he had.

 

But...at least they'd had a strong, fierce mother to look after them. If Thrall died, even in the normal timeline, he knew Aggra would care for his children and make sure they knew him and what he had died for.

 

They eventually approached what appeared to be ramshackle little tents set up, though this was really unnecessary because all of Ragefire was a cave. But it was...freezing. The lava was frozen in time and gave off no heat at all. That explained the tents, then. Thrall couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the cold before. Perhaps it was due to his heavy shamanic robes.

 

He noticed Aggra's thin tunic and torn leggings. She had to be freezing. He could only imagine what the other survivors were like. He shuddered. Aggra glanced at him.

 

“Cold, isn't it? With the elements gone, its all...cold. Everything is like Northrend tripled. Thats why the tents in Ragefire. Normally we would have been hot in here if we were naked.” A ghost of a smile appeared on her old, tired face, as if she were imagining Thrall and herself running through Ragefire naked.

 

“The elements are totally gone, Aggra? You are a shaman as much as I. How can the world exist at all with no elements?”

 

Aggra sighed. “Go'el, this world, our world, exists beyond time now. Time doesn't flow anymore. There is no need for elements, or...the Light.” Aggra had stopped before a tent in which huddled a human paladin as if to emphasize the lack of the Light as well.

 

“Even Elune has abandoned this timeless world, it seems. I hear...stories...from those brave enough to venture outside of the once-great priestess of Elune, Tyrande Whisperwind, wandering the wastes crying and lamenting and raging over how her Goddess had allowed this to happen.”

 

Aggra continued. “There are worse things as well. The Banshee Queen survived, because she cannot die. Now she wishes only to escape this world and appears to be doing all she can to make it so. Murozond will not ally with her nor she with him. She is truly...Forsaken. There are others...but I would rather you not be subject to so much suffering, Go'el. Just stop this.”

 

“Aggra, that is why I'm here. To stop this. To prevent this apocalyptic wasteland from ever coming into being. You won't have to live here, our children won't have to live here. I will...” Thrall hesitated. He had no idea what he would do. If Murozond was powerful enough to defeat legions of Horde and Alliance soldiers, along with the great Tyrande and the Banshee Queen, what hope did a mere shaman have?

 

The paladin in the tent seemed to notice their presence for the first time. It was a male human, old, and nearly dead-looking. He had hollow eyes and sunken cheeks.

 

“The Light has forsaken this land, shaman, there is nothing you can do. When I saw A'dal and O'ros die before my eyes, I knew the Light had given up on this world. On us. We were not worthy of the protection of the Light.”

 

The paladin waved around a sword that he was cradling like a baby in his arms.

 

Aggra shook her head sadly and pushed Thrall onward, away from the obviously insane paladin. “Grief has driven him to madness. He was once a great paladin, now nothing but a broken shell, as so many others are. It matters not if he is human, tauren, or blood elf. He is a paladin that has lost the Light.”

 

“What was his name? He looks familiar, as if I should know his face, but it is so ravaged and sunken that I cannot make it out.”

 

“It doesn't matter, Go'el. The less you know about the future, the less you will attempt to change. You told me you were here to change but one thing. To change what Murozond does.”

 

Thrall sighed, and glanced once more at the familiar human paladin, and moved on with Aggra. She stopped at an empty tent and beckoned him inside. Thrall entered the tent and sat on the furs on the floor that Aggra bade him to.

 

“This is where I live. My children and I. They are adults, but there is nothing for them in this world. Even the possibility of finding a mate is dire for them...”

 

Thrall wondered where they were. Aggra's...THEIR...children. He did not ask. Some questions were best left unanswered. “Aggra, what do we do now? I have always held your council to be wise, and I still do. Anachronos sent me here for a reason, and I think that reason was you. You were always the voice of reason to my occasional rash actions and impatience.”

 

Tears once more threatened the old female orc. “Oh, Go'el! I told you. I cannot help you. If I knew what to do, do you not think I would have done it? Still, you ask my council. I cannot send you up against Murozond. My council would be to...talk to him. Use your bond with the elements and the dragons to speak to him, but there is nothing here...no elements, no other dragons than those who serve the Infinite One.”

 

Thrall closed his eyes. Always, he had some sort of council. Some sort of help. They all thought he was a god amongst shaman, but all he did, he could not have done it alone. Even if it were with the help of the elements, he still had help.

 

_Great elements...if you still live...if you are out there at all, please! Heed the call of one you thought lost to you! I am Thrall, son of Durotan, the Earthbinder, the World-Shaman! Listen to my call. A world cannot exist without elements. I know you must be out there. Even if you are frozen in time, still you exist. The cold is proof of it. The element of air provides the cold, the element of fire keeps these broken people alive. You live, you have but to break free of your chains. The chains of the time freeze._

 

Thrall kept his eyes tightly closed, awaiting some sort of answer from the elements. It was not any sort of answer he expected. A soft whisper, strangled, hurting.

 

The element...he could not recognize what element it was, but it HAD answered, and it was hurting, it was in pain, locked to this world as it was, not free to do what it had been created to do.

 

“Go'el?” Aggra was shaking him.

 

“The elements, Aggra...they are NOT dead and gone...they're trapped, hurting, like everything else. The Light is probably the same way. They...have you tried talking to them at all?” He may have sounded gruff and came off as rude, but he wanted to know.

 

Aggra looked puzzled. “Of course I have, Go'el! Why would I not! I am a shaman. When this happened, the first thing I DID was attempt to get aid from the elements. Why would they answer you, when so long they have been silent to me, your mate?”

 

“Aggra, I don't think its you and them not wanting to answer you, I think, perhaps, its because I am from the past. Because I wasn't here when the time freeze happened. I cannot have shamanic powers without the elements, but my bond with them is not long lost as it is with the shaman survivors here.”

 

“Then you can...can you cast spells? Can you use any of your powers at all? Perhaps we would have a chance to at least survive longer with even the powers of one shaman.”

 

“They are hurting and lost, trapped. They won't answer my calls to aid me in any way. They can't. There has to be a way to free this world from the damned time freeze.” Thrall was furious. They hurt Aggra, his children, his world, and the elements.

 

The damned...Infinite dragonflight. Thats what Aggra meant by Infinite One. Thrall had paid it no heed until now. Murozond was...the Infinite One. Meaning...Murozond was...Nozdormu.

 

That was why Anachronos had sent him. Why Anachronos had said it was to help his father once again. Thrall had to bring Nozdormu...Murozond...back to himself. His previous bond with the Timeless One would help.

 

Perhaps this was why the great Timelord had brought down this world. Thrall had died to Deathwing. There was no one to help Nozdormu. No one to stop him from becoming Murozond. But now there was.

 

Now there was a way. Thrall would do as Anachronos asked. He would find a way to save Nozdormu from himself.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 finally added. Thrall meets the Echo of Jaina.

_End Time_

 

_Ch 3._

 

After telling Aggra all he knew about the new...Aspect of Time? Thrall honestly did not know if he still considered Murozond/Nozdormu an Aspect at all anymore. He'd frozen this land in time, doomed all who survived to a slow, painful death.

 

Including Thrall's own beloved. He almost didn't WANT to redeem Nozdormu. For the pain caused to his children, his mate, his friends...the fury inside him wanted to eliminate the vile, corrupt dragon.

 

Still...he had given Anachronos his word that he would help his father. If Thrall simply slew Murozond, there would be no stopping this future, just...saving it. Freeing it from the tyranny of time that never seemed to flow for anyone, anyone except the surviving mortal races.

 

Aggra had told Thrall that a mage, a dying blood elf, had told her in his last breaths that Murozond was currently in Dragonblight. Of course that made sense. Where else would a dragon, even a corrupt one, go but their ancient homeland?

 

Thrall had to get to Northrend. It would take so long to get there that he would surely die if he walked. Aggra had told him that no magic worked here. People who were once mages no longer had any power at all. The time freeze had seen to that.

 

There had to be a way. Some way to get to Northrend without killing himself walking. All airships and vehicles were grounded as well. None would move.

 

The elements had answered HIM, though...perhaps, here, Thrall was outside of time. Perhaps whatever monsters inhabited the wasteland, if any, would, could, ignore him. It was either stay here and die or find a way to Northrend.

 

After telling Aggra of his plan, she volunteered to go with him, but was beat down by Thrall, he told her she was needed here, no one else had the same strength of will she had, no one else could help the survivors like she could, had done for years.

 

Giving Aggra one last glance, but nothing more, for he was sure he would not have the courage to leave if he stayed here, with her, he exited Ragefire Chasm, attempting to ignore the pang he felt as he left his mate. He would only want to stay and protect her if he saw anymore of her “safe haven” here.

 

So eerie...a frozen Orgrimmar. He exited the way he came, shuddering as he passed through the gates that were cracked and frozen in a falling state, as if they should come down on his head, but of course they did not. They were frozen in time.

 

… _.Thrall? Thrall? I sense...but it cannot be..._ Thrall jumped at the echo in his head. A female voice. Familiar, but broken, fading...he reached out with what little shamanic power he'd managed to find within himself and attempted to contact the...thing...that was talking to him. No luck. No answer. Whatever she was, she was gone now.

 

On he walked, beasts, not skeletons or bodies, frozen and unmoving...people too...why had the people here not died? Why had they just been frozen? What was Murozond's endgame? Why had he killed Orgrimmar's inhabitants, but only frozen the people outside?

 

_ENDGAME? You think I need an ENDGAME!? I know who you are and why you are, son of Durotan. You seek to...REDEEM...me! To save me from myself! You know not what you speak of. I have saved myself. You seek to speak to me in person? You seek a mage? I will give you a mage!_

 

Thrall's head was rattling from Nozdormu's voice. It was angry, hatred-infused, and...Thrall couldn't help but notice...also full of something almost like regret.

 

It still bothered him that he was going to be 'given a mage' by the wicked form of his former friend, great Aspect Nozdormu. Why would an evil being provide him the means to seek him out?

 

Pain suddenly lashed through the shaman, fire, burning, then violet light, and so much hatred, so much rage, so much torment and remorse, feelings of failure and loss...these weren't his feelings. They were the feelings of...someone else.

 

But the fire and violet light weren't his, and they were directed at him. Spells. Magic. Nozdormu had been right about sending a mage, but not to get him to Northrend...to kill him.

 

Fire. Real, free fire. The shaman in him seized at it. Calling to the fire, asking it to stop its burning. His robes were on fire at the moment from the mage's spell, but this was unfrozen fire and he could speak to it. The fire backed down, slid off his robes like water. The fire had burned away a lot of his robe, including the hood that had hid most of his face.

 

A soft, female gasp caught Thrall's attention.

 

“Thrall...” It was a shuddering voice, broken and hollow sounding, tormented... “You died...you...what...why did Murozond free me from the timespell to come here? He told me I would be free if I killed an intruder in his domain...that I would be sent back. Back to before.” The violet light obscuring his vision faded. What he saw shocked and devastated him.

 

Jaina Proudmoore. She looked every bit as she had in the present timeline. Murozond had frozen her truly in time, no age showed on her young face. The only difference was her face. It had once been bright with hope and possibilities...now it was tormented and haggard. As if all the hope had been leeched out of her.

 

“Jaina...what has happened? Do you work for Nozdormu? What do you mean, timespell?” Thrall questioned her. She looked at him with hollow eyes and sank down to the ground, apparently unable to hold herself up anymore.

 

“Nozdormu...I don't know what the long-dead Aspect of Time has to do with any of this. Murozond killed Nozdormu. He said it himself. Murozond is the new Aspect of Time, only he calls himself the Aspect of Infinity. His hourglass stands untouched in the Dragonblight...a testament to a new, all-powerful Aspect. Even Deathwing's charred remains adorn the Wyrmrest Temple. There is no stopping the monster, Thrall. Not even Nozdormu could help.” Jaina said all this in a dead voice, devoid of all emotion.

 

Thrall did not like this Jaina. She had no hope. No apparent thoughts of her own. She didn't even know who Murozond really was. Of course Nozdormu was dead. That is what he would want people to think, as undisputed ruler of his precious timelocked Azeroth. Only Murozond, Aspect of Infinity, and his brood lived here, unafraid. He decided not to tell Jaina that Murozond was Nozdormu. She was obviously not herself, and apparently had not figured out the anagram, so it was safe.

 

“Jaina, I need...that is...if you can...a portal to Northrend. I need to see Murozond. Its the only way to save Nozdormu. If I can save Nozdormu, I can stop all this from happening.”

 

Jaina's slumped form did not move. She was just sitting there, in her torn violet robes, staring straight ahead. Thrall approached her slowly, not wanting to be attacked again. Jaina would never attack him in the normal timeway, but he had no idea if this version was even sane.

 

What he saw shocked him when he finally got close enough to touch her. The back of her robes were torn. Slivers of gems or violet colored glass laced the flesh on her back. They pulsed within her flesh like strange, parasitic growths.

 

This was...just vile. Thrall reached out to touch one, perhaps he could get a vision from it. Jaina slapped his hand away and backed away, tearing her robes even more on the hard, frozen sand.

 

“Don't...don't touch it! Don't touch me! It could, he could take over you. If what you say is true, if you think you can save the Aspect of Time and he could stop Murozond, then I will do all I can to help, but I can only help you part of the way. I am his. He has me under his control.”

 

Jaina's lip trembled as she said this. “If I am able to take you to Dragonblight, it will be by his will. Murozond has full control over me through these...shards...in my flesh. If Murozond allows it, Thrall, you may be in grave danger. It would be part of his plan.”

 

Thrall once again approached her, this time not giving her time to back away to slap him away, and firmly pressed a soft, green hand on one of the pulsating slivers in her back. It was his intention to get into Nozdormu's head in the end, what did it matter if that time was now? Either way, he was no longer afraid. This was Jaina after all. His Jaina.

 

Before he had met Aggra he had even...Thrall shook his head. Those thoughts were no longer important. He loved Jaina, yes, but loved her like he had loved Taretha. As a sister, if not in body then in soul. He wouldn't be scared off by odd mutations she had. There were far worse things in this horrid world.

 

Nothing happened. Apparently Murozond did not intend, or rather did not want, Thrall in his head right now. Jaina was shaking under his touch. The metallic slivers continued to pulsate and glow with that sickly violet light.

 

He knew this world was time-frozen, but he couldn't help instinct and attempted to draw on some of his shamanic power to ease the pain he could feel in his soul-sister. To his great shock, he seemed able to draw power from the pulsing slivers and almost felt as if...he was no longer locked in his own time-freeze.

 

Voices, pained, tortured, echoed around him. The elements. They were still trapped and pained, but the amplified power he'd gained from Murozond's mind-control shards within Jaina had allowed him to hear them loud and clear.

 

_Fear not, brothers and sisters, great elements. I will stop this. This will not happen._ The elements knew him, thanked him, sent him waves of love and adoration, calling him World-Shaman, greatest of them all, Master of the Elements. Thrall was humbled. These were merely the words of pained elements seeking release.

 

He was no Master of the Elements. One did not master the elements. One worked with them, as equals. The orc thanked the elements and promised them once again that he would put a stop to this and withdrew his hand from Jaina's back.

 

The feeling of a soft hand in his drew his attention back to the present. Jaina had grasped his hand, and gazed up at him with a look of longing and...hope? Hope. These were the eyes he was used to seeing when he saw his Jaina.

 

She whispered, “Stop this, Thrall. I will do all I can. I can feel it now. You can stop this. You can save us all. And I can do it. It may be a part of Murozond's plan, but I can take you...us...to Northrend. I will not leave you, Thrall.”

 

Jaina got to her knees and hugged him best she could. “I don't want to leave you. You give me hope. You always have. Always.”

 

With that, the former great mage stood and began to cast a spell. Her lips murmured words Thrall couldn't comprehend, but runes and glyphs around her feet proved that she was casting a portal. Jaina's spell finished, and Thrall looked at the portal, a bit aghast.

 

It looked so very similar to the cracked, broken portal that had brought him here. The only difference was the crackling violet light that signified an arcane spell.

 

“I...its...all I can do. But it will take you to Northrend. I promise, Thrall. It isn't a portal to some wicked prison. All mage portals look, well, looked like this. Before the end. Before the timefreeze totally took over.” Jaina resolutely stepped through the portal.

 

Thrall had no choice but to follow, into whatever wasteland the portal led.

 

There was no pain this time, just a feeling of oddness, something unnatural about this mage portal, but no pain. As he stepped out of the portal, he realized he was in...the Green Dragonshrine? Or at least something that had once been that.

 

The frozen lake and the frozen leviathan in the center of the lake proved this. Ysera...so, she was alive, but timefrozen. Perhaps another ally, if they could free her from the timefreeze.

 

“There is no way. I have tried, Thrall.” Jaina was standing near Ysera's beautiful, frozen head, one hand on the great dragon's crest. “I wish there were. Ysera...she at least may have stood a chance. The Life-binder died in the battle against Deathwing as well. The only Aspect that lived beyond the timefreeze was Ysera, but I do not call this living.”

 

“When Murozond slew Nozdormu at the bronze dragonshrine, he sensed Ysera's presence here and immediately came. She attempted to fight back, but something, I don't know, some part of him, could not kill her. He simply froze her, and here she has lain for over 10 years.”

 

Thrall tore his gaze away from the great Awakened Dreamer, who had helped him so much in the past.

 

“Jaina, what does Murozond look like? I've been...meaning to ask this. If you know, that is.”

 

Jaina shuddered. “I know what he looks like. He and all his ilk look similar. The fiends have raven-black scales, but they're cracked, as if they're coming apart...and within those cracked parts of their hides, there is silver lightning. Murozond himself even possesses the cracked skin and silver-veined hide, but his wings are almost a translucent bluish color. Its really odd and wrong.”

 

She shuddered again. “Nothing, no dragon, no demon, should look as they do. I want them to die. All of them. For what they did to us. For what they did to my people.” Jaina was crying.

 

“They will not do anything to your people. To any of the peoples of Azeroth. I will stop them. I promise. I gave my word to Nozdormu's son that I would put a stop to this, and I will, Jaina, soul-sister.”

 

Thrall pulled Jaina into a hug, ignoring her slight protest as his skin once again came into contact with the strange slivers in her flesh.


End file.
